Invisible Snowflake
by littlev123
Summary: And soon, nothing was left of the small snowflake except a small drop of water collecting at the bottom of the windowsill, the beauty long gone and without anyone to miss it. Oneshot.


A single, delicate snowflake descended in the chill winter air, gently guided and twirled by the soft, almost nonexistent wind. The quiet breeze tenderly cared over the lone intricate creation of ice, allowing it to fall at a leisurely pace while silently directing it toward a particular destination.

The rising sun, only just beginning to peek over the vast horizon, shone a small ray of its growing light onto the precious flake. Each meticulously and masterfully fashioned contour gleamed and sparkled, momentarily gifted with a shining brilliance that only the bringer of warmth and light could provide.

However, the moment did not last long. The snowflake could not stall its course, and after just the slightest of movements, it had floated out of the sun's offer of luminance. Whether the blazing orb had actually intended to cast its mighty reflection onto the ice or it had been merely giving a passing glance and not even realizing it was affecting such a miniscule object could not be known.

But the cold chill that swiftly overtook the temporarily warmed flake suggested the latter.

The ice crystal continued on for a few seconds more before finally reaching the end of its destination. It seemed to approach the glass pane of a closed window, where a young girl who had just woken up could be seen inside. The flake's journey came to an abrupt end as it collided with the glass.

Inside the bedroom, the little blonde girl rubbed her sleepy eyes while yawning drowsily. She looked around her room a little blearily, like she had woken from a good dream and still needed some time to remember where she was. The snowflake lingered on the window, silently waiting, waiting to see if she would notice its presence.

She never noticed.

The flake slowly, slowly melted, as if reluctant to leave but knowing it was the inevitable.

And soon, nothing was left except a small drop of water collecting at the bottom of the windowsill, the beauty long gone and without anyone to miss it.

A few minutes later, more snowflakes began to appear outside and the temperature dropped noticeably in the area. It was truly snowing now, white beginning to cover the dying grasses on the ground and gradually beginning to pile up on the roofs of buildings.

The girl, feeling the new chill in the air, shivered slightly and pulled her blankets tighter around her. She glanced out the window, and then almost immediately forgot about the colder-than-average temperature of the room.

Her eyes widened to watch the ice crystals falling from the sky, a wide smile revealing her bright teeth. She all but jumped out of bed, scrambling about her room to grab her winter clothing. Just as she finished wrapping a scarf around her neck, the door to her room opened, and she turned to face it.

A man, bearing blonde hair similar to the girl's own, walked into the room. Too eager to even bother with a greeting, the girl excitedly pointed to the window and at the falling flakes outside. The father followed her enthusiastic direction to look at the indicated snow as well.

Although the father's smile never faltered toward his young daughter, his eyes flickered briefly with something almost resembling displeasure; not everyone was so happy to see the cold weather.

He looked back to his daughter when she asked for permission to go outside, barely contained energy coursing through her small body and ready to be spent in a day of fun in the snow.

The father let out an amused chuckle at her appearance, and then nodded. She couldn't stifle her glee as she gave her father a quick hug and then raced out of the room.

Once outside, she met with a few of her neighboring friends who had also come out to enjoy the snow. They talked for a few moments, their breath just warm enough to be visible in the cold air as they spoke. She soon suggested that they have a snowball fight, looking around at the other three kids to see their answer.

All but one readily agreed. She glanced at the one boy who had not responded, giving him a questioning look. He was the shiest of the group, his eyes averted the ground uneasily. It was not that he didn't want to play; in fact, he very much did want to play. It was just that he knew that he was the least athletic, and he worried that he might drag down whoever else was on his team

Knowing that she was expecting an answer, he shuffled his feet in the freshly fallen snow, wondering if maybe he should just head inside so that he wouldn't be a burden on—

Something soft yet thrown with force suddenly struck his back, making him stumble forward for a moment. He turned in surprise to see the snow that had fallen from his coat, the small clumps indicating that it had once been a snowball. The other children looked on, surprised as well but unsure of what his reaction would be.

He started to laugh. Not an insecure, soft laugh that was so quiet that it went almost unheard, but a loud, truly happy laugh that bubbled up from deep within his chest.

The others soon began to laugh as well, the simple delight of the moment spreading to them. They did not, could not hear the fifth voice that joined theirs, a little deeper but equally as exultant.

As the kids began to reach down and start packing snow into spheres with their small hands, the owner of the unheard presence stood alongside them and gathered a handful of the white powder with a naturally cold hand.

This person was none other than the creator of the freshly fallen snow, Jack Frost.

The air soon rang with the sound of laughter and the soft crunching of snow as the battle began. Snowballs were thrown every which way, some making their targets while others were dodged or blocked. It was the simple fun of the game that mattered, not who won or lost.

Jack, his smile as bright as the children around him, expertly aimed and threw his own projectiles. Although he was much more nimble than them and could have easily avoided all of the snowballs, he allowed a few to strike him, laughing as the snow crumbled upon impact and slid off of his blue hoodie.

Their games continued throughout the better part of the day, nothing but sweet happiness and pure fun.

But the fun couldn't last forever.

The day went by all too quickly. Before Jack realized it, the sun was beginning to sink back into the horizon, taking its bright light with it.

The shy boy's parents called out to him first, stepping out onto the doorstep to announce dinner. He gave the rest of the kids a small wave and left, walking back to his own house.

It didn't take more than a few minutes for the other children to return to their homes as well. They were all tired from the day's enjoyments, and were ready to warm up with a good meal and go to sleep.

Soon, only the girl was left. She too began to walk back to her house, rubbing her gloved hands together to warm them.

Jack opened his mouth to ask her to stay, but then closed it, his gaze averting to the ground. He knew she wouldn't hear him, just as he knew that she wouldn't even believe that he existed.

No one believed.

During the snowball fight, he had been surrounded in the joy of others, helping him to forget, just for a moment, that he was invisible. Just for a moment, he had been able to believe that he was one of them. Just for a moment, he had been their friend.

But that moment was over.

He turned away, ready to call on the wind to take him back to the lake, but stopped. He instead looked back at the little girl's house, which she had just entered. He began to walk over to it, feeling compelled to this place that gave offered her warmth and protection.

He stopped at the window and looked inside, watching the scene. This was not the first time he had been an onlooker, watching as everyone else around him received what he could never have. He didn't know why he did, torturing himself by looking at something so close and yet so far.

Maybe he still had some vain hope that, just maybe, someone would see him, all alone and in the dark, and then give him a smile and invite him inside, into the happiness and comfort that he so desperately wanted.

But it was just that; a vain hope.

Jack could see the girl sitting at the table, eating at the dinner table with her parents. She seemed to be talking in between bites, but he was unable to hear her words through the glass. At a particularly exciting part in the conversation, she laid down her fork and spread out her hands to emphasize whatever point she was making. Her parents smiled back and the father gave a few words to encourage her to continue, which the girl happily did.

Only when her eyes began to droop and she let out a wide-mouthed yawn did her parents finally insist on her going to bed. She nodded, rubbing her eyes sleepily, and rose from her chair. Her mother crouched down to be at her eye level and left a light kiss on her forehead before wishing her good dreams.

The girl hugged her back, albeit rather loosely in her want for sleep, and then left the dining room to go to her bedroom. The parents watched her leave, their eyes shining with care for their beloved child.

Jack sighed and turned away from the window. What was it like, he wondered, to be comforted by another's touch? To know that you have someone that would protect you and care for you, no matter what?

He gave a halfhearted, humorless chuckle. Here he was, a winter spirit whose very being was comprised of cold, and yet he yearned for the warmth of another. It didn't really matter too much, he supposed; he could never have it anyway. No one could see him, much less touch him.

But it didn't stop him from hoping.

And that only made it worse.

Jack looked up at the rising moon, the same moon who had placed him in this realm many years ago, and leaving him with only two words:

Jack Frost.

His name. That was the only thing the moon had ever given him. He didn't tell him why he was here, or why no one could see him. No matter how many times he asked, the moon remained silent to his pleas for an answer.

It was almost as if the moon couldn't see him either.

Jack pulled up his hood to hide from the unforgivable moonlight and started to walk away.

No one believed in him.

Not even his creator.

**A/N: I just felt like writing a bit of angst. It didn't turn out as well as I had hoped, but thanks for reading it, and reviews are always appreciated!**

**EDIT: Nothing major, just fixed a typo that haniipop was kind enough to point out to me.**


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